


Cover Me

by Tiofrean



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aborted Hand Job, Character Death Mentioned, Coping Mechanisms, Established Relationship, It’s Not Our Boys, M/M, Post S06 Finale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Probably Post S01E07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7707109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Negan killed Glenn in cold blood, the group tries to cope somehow. Rick doesn’t. But Daryl would be damned if he let his lover just switch off and disappear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a word-vomit from me (or if you wish, my way of getting the cliffhanger out of my head). The fic ignores the spoilers from the set, it follows the plotline of comics, so Glenn’s death is comic-canonical here.  
> The title comes from Bruce Springsteen’s song “Cover me”, because I think a lot of The Boss’ songs are so very suiting our Rickyl… you’ll be getting more of that in the future.  
> I hope this fic manages to make the cliffhanger easier to some of you. Or maybe the first episode of the next series.

“It’s not yer fault” Daryl whispered quietly, just loud enough that Rick could still hear him. He was almost sure that Rick did, even if there was no reaction, no response… nothing. Daryl turned his head to the side, looking at Rick, the chilly night air blowing over Rick’s hair, messing up his curls.

He looked dead. Hell, they all did, Daryl knew that, he had seen himself in the mirror. But they all tried to go on, to use the momentum that had brought them all here and sail on it for a while longer. To somehow get their footing back. But Rick… Rick looked like if he had smashed head-first into a brick wall and just splashed all over it. _Rick looked like a dead man walking,_ and Daryl was slowly getting very worried about him.

Three days since they had lost Glenn. Three days since Maggie had shouted accusations at Rick, all emotion and no sense, effective like a gun to the temple. And Rick had just shut down… _switch off_ and _nothing there_. Daryl was equally angry and hurting, getting even madder the more Rick just stood on the porch and _stared_ into the night.

They had all lost someone on that day and it was still making Daryl’s heart squeeze painfully every time his thoughts drifted unbidden to Glenn. He had cried, he had promised to kill Negan. He had promised it aloud a dozen of times, and he had promised it quietly a hundred more every time he looked into his people’s faces. But what had already been done couldn’t be undone, even if Daryl was ready to rip himself to shreds trying.

He had seen Rick when he had lost Lori, and later, when he had been walking the crazy town. Rick had been beaten up then, a gigantic hole torn out of his life, not enough of _anything_ to patch it up. But even then, Rick had been doing _something_. Talking, crying, shouting, screaming… Now he just stood there, a thousand-yards stare fixed firmly on god only knew what, eyes empty and so dead Daryl could feel himself shaking with cold every time he looked at his lover.

There were no words. Granted, Daryl wasn’t good with them anyway, but he would _try_. He would try _for Rick_. If he only knew what to say… or what to _do_. But there was nothing. People had tried. Avoiding Rick on the first day. Trying to approach him on the second. Leaving him be again on the third one… Their whole group, their family, was broken to pieces, and losing Rick to whatever shitty place he had gone to was like if someone had tried to cut the duct tape that held them together. It hurt so much to see him like that, cold and dead, that Daryl decided he had to do something to stop this. To make Rick open his eyes and actually _look_ instead of mindlessly staring.

To do something to clear the raw wound and let it start healing.

And so Daryl found himself alone with Rick on the porch outside their house. The quietness of the evening and the stillness of the town under the cold light of the stars made him shiver as memories flooded him. Memories of Joe and his group, memories of how similar it had been to what was happening now...

But even then it hadn't taken that much. A few gruffed out words and Daryl’s dirty rag, offered to Rick like a lifeboat. He had shaken it all off then, pulled himself out of whatever fucked up, dark place he had fallen into. Dragged himself out for Carl, for Michonne. And for Daryl. Rick had told him all that later. But now? Now Rick didn’t even look at him, much less talk to him. Hell, for all Daryl knew, the man had been standing on this fucking porch since they had gotten here three days ago. Daryl couldn’t tell exactly, he had lost some time, too. Between the grieving that took all his strength away like a drought, and people trying to patch his shoulder up as best as they could, his brain had switched off for some time, too.

Daryl shifted, determined to get some kind of response out of Rick. A shout, a scream, a cry… a _punch_. Something to break that _rigor mortis_ he had fallen into.  
“Rick, ya can’t blame yerse…”  
“Don’t” it was quiet, barely there, _interrupting_ , but Daryl heard it nevertheless. His heart fluttered at actually hearing Rick say anything. But then his brain registered the tremble of that soft whisper, the way Rick’s eyes squeezed tightly shut, and Daryl’s heart sank and crashed somewhere at the bottom of his chest. His lover was so far gone, Daryl thought that even a walker chewing on Rick’s boots wouldn’t probably get a reaction out of him.

“Rick…”  
“Don’t… _shut up!_ ” The last bit was seethed out, as Rick bent over and dropped his head down to his hands that were still resting on the rail of the porch. Daryl gritted his teeth, determined to dig deeper while he had a chance. He grabbed Rick’s elbow, intent on turning him around, but Rick jerked away and faced Daryl rapidly, fist flying to Daryl’s side. The punch lacked any strength and was poorly aimed and it barely even registered in Daryl’s brain, before his body reminded him that it was still in a bad shape.

His shoulder twinged painfully, the almost forgotten wound Dwight had served him burning like if it had suddenly been set on fire, and Daryl groaned quietly. Rick didn’t even react, his other hand went up and landed on Daryl’s hip, another weak and uncoordinated punch, this time not jarring any of Daryl’s wounds into life.

Huffing out, he grabbed Rick’s wrists and spun him around, throwing his back against a wall, pressing forward with his body so he had Rick pinned there, hands on his sides. He ducked his head a little and tried to catch Rick’s eyes, but Rick was struggling too much, trying to break Daryl’s hold on him. He almost succeeded, too, but Daryl slammed him against the wall again, the back of Rick’s head hitting it with a painful thud as he cringed. Daryl pressed forward again, one knee jammed between Rick’s thighs to help with holding him in place.

“That what ya want? Huh?” Daryl growled at him, noticing how Rick’s chest rose and fell rapidly, the breathing as heavy as if he had just run a marathon. But Rick was silent, staring right through Daryl, god knows what going through his mind. Daryl cursed quietly, the urge to shake some sense into his lover growing stronger and stronger with every second.

Sure, Daryl had done his fair share of grieving, and his mind was still all fucked up after Glenn's death, but to just shut down like this? Barely eating, barely drinking, probably not sleeping? They were survivors, and survivors had to live through this shit somehow. When you’re at the end of your rope, you tie a knot and you hold tight. Rick? To Daryl, it looked like he had just given up somewhere in that blasted forest, with no intention of even trying to bring himself back again. And he had to, god, how he had to come back. His whole family needed him, his kids… _Daryl_ needed him to get through this, and he would be damned if he just let Rick collapse on himself like this.

A sharp tug of Rick’s arms, a clear attempt to dislodge Daryl’s hold, brought Daryl back to the present. Rick was still struggling, writhing against him in that single-minded need to get away. But Daryl knew there were only two things Rick could do after he broke loose - either punch Daryl again, or go back to his haunted staring into nothing. And Daryl was _done with that_. He pressed his whole body into Rick’s and growled again, barely even recognizing his own voice.  
“Ya wanna fight, Rick? That what ya want?” He was suddenly angry and so very done. Exhausted and hurting, not really caring if Rick wanted to go hand-to-hand right now.

But then Rick shifted a bit, and Daryl’s eyes widened as he looked down. There was an insistent bulge tenting the front of Rick’s trousers, and when Daryl let go of one of his wrists to rub at it, Rick didn’t even try to move away. He was still staring into distance, gaze empty and _dead_ , and Daryl smashed their mouths together, opening Rick’s belt. It was dark around, and nobody was out at that time, anyway. Once the belt was off and the fly was undone, he took hold of Rick’s length, not wasting any time and stroking it with harsh, quick moves. And that’s when Rick moaned, the sound so distant and fragile, it sounded as if his throat had forgotten how to make it.

A small movement, and Rick’s hands were gripping Daryl’s jacket, to draw him closer or to just hold on, Daryl didn’t know. But it was a reaction, and he was glad he got it anyway. Rick was groaning quietly with every tug of Daryl’s hand, hips moving into Daryl’s fist as he worked Rick’s hard cock, little pants fanning over Daryl’s neck when Rick dropped his head forward, resting his forehead on Daryl’s injured shoulder. The hunter hissed and almost jerked away, but managed to get a hold of his body, reminding himself that he had enough painkillers coursing through his system to get through the rest of the apocalypse.

A little whimper escaped Rick’s lips and he pressed his face into Daryl’s neck, hands fisted in Daryl’s leather jacket, anchoring himself, holding onto his lover, as if he was afraid Daryl would just disappear and leave him there.  
“I’ve gotcha, Rick” Daryl rasped out, hand slowing down a little as he bent his head and kissed a small patch of bare skin, just under Rick’s ear. Rick whimpered again, and after a few moments, a stuttered sob escaped him.

It was raw and pained and Daryl just froze. Rick was trembling in his arms, the flesh in Daryl’s hand softening with every second, and Daryl could feel the way Rick started to swallow convulsively. He gently tucked Rick back into his underwear, zipped him up and wrapped his arms around his shivering body, small shushing noises escaping his own lips on instinct. Rick was hurting, and god, did Daryl know the feeling.  
“Shh… yer fine” one of Daryl’s hands traveled to Rick’s hair and he tried to tug him gently away, to look at him, to make sure the connection they had was still there. But Rick just shook his head and pressed into him, his whole body sagging against Daryl as if someone had turned the switch off.

Rick was falling apart in his arms, falling like a house of cards and Daryl was helpless to stop it. He could only stand there, hold his man as closely as he could manage and whisper insignificant sappy shit into his ear, hoping to make it better. Daryl didn’t care, if it made Rick feel even the tiniest bit better, he would do it. It was the least he could do, really, standing there and cradling Rick’s shivering form in his arms, cursing silently when Rick felt like a small, beaten up kid, clinging to him in blind desperation.

Daryl grunted, his good arm making sure that Rick wouldn’t collapse to the ground, while the fingers of the other kept brushing through Rick’s curls. A feeble attempt at comfort, the only one Daryl had at his disposal in that moment. Rick just leaned into him with his whole body, his sobs turning ugly, wrecking his whole body like an earthquake. Daryl held him through it, gritting his teeth when his shoulder started to hurt again. But he’d had worse before, and anyway, Rick was more important than that. If he wanted to stand here and cry for the whole night, Daryl would be here holding him through it.

It took Rick a long time to calm down even a little, his crying turning into small hiccups as he pulled away from Daryl gingerly, gaze fixed on the floor. Daryl tucked one finger under Rick’s chin, turning his face up. Bloodshot blue eyes traveled hesitantly over Daryl’s features, before Rick’s gaze settled on Daryl’s own worried one and he swallowed heavily, straightening up a little. Then Rick’s eyes fell closed again and Daryl frowned, a flash of panic squeezing his insides.

He was so relieved to see a bit of his lover coming back to himself in that brief moment when their gazes met that he almost felt like crying when he saw Rick’s face become all ghostly pale in the warm light of Alexandria’s street lamps. Before he could even open his mouth and ask, though, Rick turned to the side and walked to the railing of the porch, leaning over it heavily.  
“Gonna be sick” he murmured and Daryl’s eyes widened in understanding. Rick really must have forgotten to eat in his deathly stupor and now his body started to rebel once Rick’s mind got a bit of relief.

He followed Rick, placing one hand on Rick’s bowed back when he started to dry-heave.  
“Have ya eaten at all?” Daryl asked, watching as Rick’s body tried to throw up his empty stomach.

“ _A bit_ ” Rick groaned out between two painfully looking contractions and Daryl winced in sympathy. He needed to get Rick back to the house, get them both back, because the night was way too cold and he was too exhausted to deal with anything more right now.  
  
He waited until Rick’s body decided it was done and led them both inside, upstairs and to their bedroom. He laid Rick down on the bed and took off his boots, before he turned around and made his way quickly to the kitchen. He was back as soon as the water boiled, carrying a slice of bread and a mug of tea, diluted with bottled water to cool it down a little. He found Rick exactly as he had left him, on his side on the bed, eyes closed. They opened when Daryl sat on the mattress next to him and waited for Rick to sit up a little, pressing the bread and the tea into his hands.

Rick nodded at him, chewing absentmindedly on the improvised dinner and washing it down with small sips of tea.  
“Should set yer stomach a bit” Daryl murmured, desperate to keep Rick on the right side of alive and dead, determined not to let the silence fall once again. Rick nodded his thanks mechanically, eating the rest of the meal in silence, but his gaze traveled to Daryl from time to time, which really gave Daryl a bit of hope. He knew that there were more dark moments coming, but he was relieved to have this one small victory. He was so fucking tired of being the duct tape guy in a house full of broken people.

And he was running out of duct tape, too.

After Rick was finished, he set the empty mug on the bedside table and turned to face Daryl. His gaze traveled from Daryl’s face to his shoulder, the one further away, and he winced seeing a sliver of the white bandage peeking out from under Daryl’s shirt. Daryl waited patiently until Rick’s eyes traveled back to his and he nodded at him, a barely there shift of his head to let Rick know it was alright. Rick lowered himself down on the bed again, curling up against Daryl’s good side and the hunter frowned, wrapping his arms around Rick and tugging him up. Rick tentatively placed his head on Daryl’s shoulder and fisted his hand in Daryl’s shirt.

“I’m sorry” he murmured quietly, eyes closing.  
“‘s okay… just, don’t disappear on me” Daryl leaned down, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head. Rick sighed.  
“Didn’t intend to.”  
“‘member what ya told me at Woodbury?” Rick was silent, so Daryl continued. “I need ya, Rick. Don’t leave me here alone with this shit” he could feel Rick’s hand tightening where it gripped Daryl’s shirt and he squeezed Rick’s shoulders lightly in return.

“‘m sorry… I won’t...”  
“Good” and with that, the silence fell once again. This time, though, it was filled with Rick’s quiet snoring and huffed out breaths that soothed Daryl as he kept watch over his man. They were still deep in the woods, as Rick’s nightmare reminded Daryl about two hours later, but it was a start.


End file.
